Finding Solace
by chibiness87
Summary: Post s.20. e.5 Awakening. Set a few weeks after returning home from Mexico. No spoilers for Series 21. One shot.


**Finding solace,** by **chibiness87**  
 **Rating: T**. Swearing.  
 **Spoilers** : S20, ep5, pt2 – Awakening  
 **Disclaimer** : Not mine.

 **A/N** : This has been sitting on my hard drive in pieces for a while now, and I figured I'd get it finished and posted before the new series starts next week and makes it all obsolete. Set a few weeks after the events of Awakening, and S21 spoiler free.

* * *

Nikki stares at him, unable to believe the words that have just come out of his mouth in their fit of anger. "You're really going to play that card? _Seriously_?"

But she has never known Jack to back down from an argument, and this time is no exception. There is the beginning of a sneer on his face as he all but hisses at her, "Well, one of us has to, and it's obviously not going to be _you_ , is it?

Her voice rising, knowing they are gaining unwanted attention _again_ , (this, after all, not being their first discussion since returning from Mexico,) Nikki cannot bring herself to care about consequences right now. Instead, she demands, "And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

Jack is leaning into her personal space now, and she cannot help the small step she takes back. Time was, she would step towards him, but not now. Not since… A glint comes into his eye when she moves back another pace, and his smile is anything but nice. Voice low, there is a superior note as he goads her. "You think I don't see it? You think I'm so blind as to not notice?"

Her own voice is quiet, weak, and oh, but she hates that. Hates it almost as much as the question that comes out unbidden, knowing she is giving him more ammunition to use against her. "Notice what?"

Jack takes a step back, voice normal once more. "You're not fine, Nikki." He gives a small shake of his head. "Not even close."

It is all too much for her, all at once, and she breaks. Finally. "Well what do you expect? I thought I was going to _die_!" And to her horror, tears fill her eyes, one breaking free before she can do anything about it.

"Nikki…" And Jack reaches for her, but she will not be comforted. Not by anyone, and especially not by him. Not after the hot and cold shoulder she has been getting from him ever since she found him in the hamlet after freeing herself from her prison.

"No, Jack. No. You have," she pauses, tries to get her breathing back under control, "you have no _idea_ what it was like. To wake up… _buried_ like that." A sob escapes, and she turns her back on him, her arms coming up to cling across her chest. "Knowing the air was running out, that no one knew where to even _start_ looking for me."

She finds herself turned at that, and forcibly so. Jack is glaring at her, and she can almost swear there is hatred in his eyes. "Because you wouldn't bloody let us!" She tries to protest, but Jack keeps talking over her. "No. No. Instead, you had to be all noble and selfless and _Nikki,_ and save everyone else, didn't you?!"

Glaring daggers herself now, she hisses, "You don't understand. You don't know what…"

Jack is back in her personal space. "Seriously? You _seriously_ think I don't know what it was like?"

"How can you…"

"I thought you had died! Jesus Christ, don't you get that?" And Jack turns away, his hands coming up to rake though his hair in obvious frustration. Turning back to her, he continues more gently but no less urgently. "I thought, you pushed me to finding everyone else, everyone who _wasn't_ you, and I couldn't see the fucking point of it, because I had failed you." A sob breaks free, and it takes her a second to realise it was from her, in reaction to the pain in his voice at the admission. "I failed you, Nikki, I thought you had died out there, and I couldn't even bring you home. I had nothing to go off except a stupid scorpion, and I didn't even have that because you killed it already."

Voice still catching, she reaches for his arm. "Jack…"

But Jack continues, brushing her arm aside as a hardness comes over his eyes as he remembers. "And then, and then you just… you walked back into that place like you'd, you'd gone for a stroll on the beach, or something, and Christ, I thought I was going mad." And now he does look at her, looks at her with such pain and confusion and she wishes, not for the first time, that she has been selfish, and had found enough for Jack to save her. Only, if she had, if he had, how could either of them live with the knowledge they could have done so much more? She could never, would never, regret saving so many lives, even at the expense of her own. But still, she wishes there was a way to remove the pain from Jack's face right now. He continues, unwittingly driving the knife of pain deeper into her own chest with every word. "I thought I was going crazy, Nikki. I was so sure you were dead but then you were right in front of me and I couldn't fucking breathe."

A sob is clawing at her throat now, desperate to escape. "I'm sor…"

But Jack still has one more barb to play, and as much as she hates it, she knows he has the right. "You said goodbye, Nikki. You said goodbye, and then you made me into your fucking note."

The sob finally breaks free, and she does nothing to hold it back. "I didn't…"

Jacks voice goes cold, the pain in his eyes locked away once more. "So excuse me for claiming to be a bit out of sorts. Can't imagine why I would be."

He turns and brushes past her, so close it is almost like he passes through her, and she cannot help but reach for him. "Jack."

But Jack continues, even as she calls after him, "Jack, wait. I didn't…" But he still continues on, and the door slams behind him as he leaves.

No longer caring about the scene she knows they have made, Nikki turns and hurries away.

No one tries to stop her.

* * *

It's the middle of the night. Not that anyone would be able to tell, with the number of lights on in her flat. But that's the only thing that she can think of to keep the darkness at bay. The last time she got anything close to rest was when she fell asleep on the plane against Jack; the heat of his body coupled with the swell of the engine, not to mention the residue shock, lulling her to sleep somewhere over the Atlantic. She had woken to find at some point during her slumber Jack had looped an arm around her, pulling her closer to his chest; his other hand running a soothing pattern over her back. It hadn't taken long for her to fall back asleep. But ever since landing back in the UK, sleep has been elusive at best, erratic at worst, and when she does eventually succumb the nightmares she is plagued with makes her wake in cold sweats. Every time, without fail. So instead of sleeping, she has taken to curling up on her sofa under an old blanket, jumping at every noise her flat makes, and every car that passes on the street outside. Her most recent argument with Jack has done nothing to calm her nerves.

She is so hyperaware of every little noise in her vicinity, that when the sound of a slight knock comes at just after 2.35am she damn near jumps out of her skin. Eyes wide, she sits on her sofa, arms tight around herself, pulling the blanket closer. She knows she is safe here, she _knows_ it, but it still doesn't stop her heartrate from increasing, her body priming itself in the most basic way. Fight or flight. Run or stay.

The scrape of a key in her lock comes next, and this does nothing to help her nerves. Logically, she knows if they, whoever they are, has a key, then she must, at some point, have trusted them enough to give them full access to her home, even if she's not planning on being there. But logic has had so little to do with her reactions since returning from Mexico that all she can think is _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_ …

The door creaks open, and she cannot help the small scream of fear that escapes as the, man, definitely a man, enters, heading straight for her. A hand clamps down over her mouth, even as he moves behind her, and instinct takes over. She bites down, hard, even as she throws her head back, trying to stun her assailant. But he is too strong for her, and his arms keep their grip around her body, his voice hissing in her ear.

It takes her a long moment through her panic and fear for the words, "For fucks sake Nikki, it's me!" to register, and another moment for her mind to process the sound of the voice. It is a voice she knows, it is a voice she trusts.

Instantly, she stops fighting, instead gasping in deep breaths of air, trying to stop her heart from beating quite so madly. But it is a futile effort, and before she can stop it, great tears of relief, of grief and fear and pain, are flowing. Her hands come up and beat against his chest, and between broken sobs she keeps whispering the same word over and over again. "Bastard. Bastard. Bastard."

Eventually, her hands stop beating, and turn to grasping, and her sobs quieten, to be replaced by the odd hiccup as she tries desperately to get her breathing back under control. Pushing herself away from him, she finally demands, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Jack, to his credit, looks slightly sheepish, even as he admits, "I came to apologise."

She blinks at him, still slightly shaking. "And you thought that breaking into my flat in the middle of the night and scaring me half to death was the best way to do that?"

"I… I didn't mean to scare you. Your light was on."

The admission comes out before she can censor it. "My light is always on these days."

He sighs, a look of painful awareness creeping in around his vision. "Nikki…"

She shakes her head. "Look. It's late. I'm tired. I accept your appalling attempt at an apology. You can see yourself out. I'm going to bed."

Jack's eyes sweep her form, and it is all she can do not to pull the fallen blanket back up around her as a barrier to his gaze. "You're not sleeping."

She glances down. Away from his prying look. "I…"

He sighs. "Don't, Nikki." Shaking his head, he reaches a hand out, and lies it gently on her arm. "Please, just, don't."

Instead of speaking, she shakes her head. After a moment, she finally glances up to meet his eye for a second. Drawing strength from the contact of his hand on her arm, she finally admits a truth that has been haunting her. "Every time I close my eyes I'm back in that box."

Jack's grip tightens slightly. "What can I do?"

"Jack…"

"No, look. You were right. I don't know what it was like for you. I have no idea." He tilts his head until his eyes meet hers, and this time she doesn't look away. "But I know that every time I close my eyes I picture you there, running out of air, and it kills me. Every time. So if it's anything like that…"

She finds herself nodding before he has finished, confirming it with a choked, "It is."

His hand on her arm slides down to her elbow, and he holds her there gently. "What can I do?"

"Maybe you could…" Nikki breaks off, looking away, knowing that what she is asking for might be too much.

"What?"

"Hold me?" And she looks at him. Nods her head down to his arms. "Like you did, when I fell asleep on the plane?"

Instead of pulling away, he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." Glancing around, it is only know she remembers they are still by her sofa. "Do you want to stay out here?"

She shakes her head.

He nods again. "Ok." After a slight pause, he gestures to the corridor behind them that leads to the rest of the flat. "Bed, then?"

Nikki nods. "Yeah. But don't…"

She trails off again, prompting Jack to ask, "What?"

The state of her flat comes into sharp focus all of a sudden. The thought of how little she has actually taken care since returning from Mexico. "I haven't been… it's a bit of a mess."

A small grin flits around the edge of Jack's face, his Irish lilt coming out stronger as he teases her. "My, my, Dr Alexander. Are you telling me you're really a slob at heart?" And to complete to picture he even winks at her. An act that makes her stutter in his presence for the first time in ages, if not ever.

"I… no. Th-the mess… it uh, it helps. Reminds me…"

"Reminds you…?"

"That I'm home."

Instantly, his grin fades, to be replaced with a more serious look. "Yeah, I get that." He nods, before sliding his hand down to grasp at her fingers gently. "Ok, come on. Bedtime." She guides them through her flat, nodding at the bathroom door as they pass so he knows where it is. Together they enter her bedroom, and she tries not to wince at the picture she knows the room presents, knowing Jack is biting back on the comment he would normally make.

Instead, he has dropped her hand, and has paused at the doorway. When she turns to question him, he simply asks, "Lights on?" and nods towards the switch on the wall. Almost instantly she feels her breath hitch at the thought of being in darkness. Jack must be able to read something in her expression, because he leaves the switch as it is with no further comment.

He slips his jacket and shoes off, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. No socks. The surrealism of it all hits her suddenly, and it takes her a moment to realise he's asked her a question. "What?"

"Left or right?" And he nods to the bed, unmade since the last time she flew from its confining covers, the weight of the duvet feeling like a trap. She can feel herself begin to hyperventilate again, the panic attacks a fairly regular occurrence these days. But before the white noise can take over and her mind shuts down, she is being forced to meet another set of eyes. Deep and intense, they demand attention, and it shocks her enough for the words he is saying to penetrate. "Breathe. Just breathe. In for 3 and out for 6. Just breathe for me. That's it. That's it. And again. In for 3 and out for 6. Good."

Somewhere along the line, he has taken her hand in his again, and leads her over to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls her down alongside him, angling them so he is slightly propped up against the headboard, her head nestled over his chest, her ear over where his heart resides. His arms come up to stroke over her back rhythmically, from scapula to intercostal margin and back again. He is keeping his breathing deep and slow, and she finds it easy with them like this to mimic it, and finally she feels the last dregs of the panic that had overtaken her fade.

She knows she should try to move, knows the position he is in will be murder on his back, but when she shifts her weight in preparation, he murmurs, "Stay. If you want, we can stay like this."

She nods, settling back against him. She has no idea how long they stay like that, lying silently in the brightly lit room, his hand still idly tracing over her back, but when she wakes in the morning, she finds she is still pressed against his side, his hand having fallen between them at some point in the night.

It's the first night she has slept without any nightmares, and she smiles, for the first time since arriving home believing that she may yet be ok.

* * *

End

Thoughts?


End file.
